


Always

by poisontaster



Series: Brotherly Love [3]
Category: Black Donnellys
Genre: Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-05
Updated: 2009-02-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:43:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy always knows when Kevin's here and he only comes for one reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always

**Author's Note:**

> Set about 5 years post-series. Written for oxoniensis' Porn Battle. Thanks to tsuki-no-bara for audiencing.

Kevin's only gotten as far as snagging a beer out of the fridge and holding the bottle to his aching head when his front door opens. He knows it's Tommy even before the rasped, "Kevin."

There's no question in Tommy's voice. Tommy knows he's here. Tommy always knows when Kevin's here and he only comes for one reason. Because for everything else, Kevin goes to him.

Kevin rolls the sweating bottle across his forehead briefly before setting it down on the counter. A moment later, he pulls his piece from the back of his pants and sets that on the counter too before tugging tiredly at his tie. He hates the fucking tie. "Yeah, Tommy, m'in here. You want a drink?"

Despite a low-level irritation, there's an excitement spicing his belly, jalapeno hot, heating him up from inside. It's been a while. A long while. And Kevin's tired of rattling around the apartment like the lone pea in the pod. After Jimmy, Kevin understands Tommy's reasons for wanting them all in different places, but he spent most of his life with his Ma and brothers around him. By himself, Kevin gets lonely. And bored.

Looks like tonight, he won't be either one.

At least for a while. 

"Nah, I don't want anything." Tommy comes in and leans against the kitchen doorway. He's already jerked his tie loose and unbuttoned the collar. Kevin gets stuck on that little bit of throat framed in the vee. Tommy jerks his head. "C'mere."

Five years ago, Kevin would've played this out, played coy, played dumb—hell, it wouldn't have been all that much of an act; Kevin knows he's not the brightest tool in the shed. Nowadays, though… There's not enough time and too many issues for Kevin to waste time or Tommy's temporary willingness with bullshit. He goes to Tommy. Starts to go to his knees, mouth already wet up and loose, but Tommy stops him.

"Not like that, Kev." Tommy's fingers are wrapped around Kevin's biceps and Kevin kinda hangs there, in space, waiting for Tommy's cue. 

They don't kiss much, him and Tommy. Bad enough that they do this, Kevin guesses, without being _gay_ about it. Or so the Tommy-voice in his head says. The two of them don't talk about it, so Kevin isn't really sure what Tommy's reasons are, other than he's sure that Tommy's got some. 

Anyway, it's a surprise when Tommy pushes his lips up against Kevin's, awkward, almost angry. 

(It's always almost angry. Kevin knows it's cuz Tommy resents it, resents him; blames Kevin for making him do this, blames Kevin for making him want this)

Kevin's mouth opens up as much from shock as want and then Tommy's in, first hard and demanding, then getting soft as it heats up, like he's melting, like he's melting all over Kevin. Kevin's hanging on to Tommy with both hands, moaning into the kiss and his cock hard and heavy as rock between his legs. 

He wonders, though, who he's tasting on Tommy's mouth. Kate, or even Jenny—who Tommy can't seem to stay away from even after they're both married to different people—is that who's on Tommy's lips or someone else, or is it no one at all?

Kevin tries not to wonder. Tries not to feel too bitter about the fact that there's no one for him but Tommy and if Tommy has it his way, there probably won't ever be.

_"No more bars. No more guys._

_Just me. You don't do this with nobody but me._

Kevin can't focus on bitterness anyway, though. Not when he's got Tommy right here, pressing him into the counter, Tommy's hand on his dick, rubbing hard and rough. Kevin skims his hand down expensive, mercerized cotton and virgin wool to feel Tommy surge against his fingers. Kevin's past feeling embarrassed by how bad he wants Tommy's dick, his love for his brother tangled up hopelessly with a hunger he can't ever seem to satisfy. 

For this he's turned himself into his brother's right hand. For this he's become a killer and a thug. 

Kevin's past feeling ashamed of that, either, as he tugs at Tommy's belt, his zipper, reaching to touch Tommy, skin to skin. Tommy groans as Kevin's fingertips brush over his dick, hips pistoning hard into Kevin's thigh. 

"Turn around, Kev."

Kevin doesn't know why Tommy even bothers to say it. His hands are already pushing Kevin around to face the counter and Kevin's rolling with it the way he always does, hands braced on the Formica while Tommy rips and fumbles with Kevin's slacks, his shorts. They fall down around Kevin's ankles and he starts to lift his foot to kick them away, but Tommy pushes into him again, making the counter bite into Kevin's belly. "Don't."

Tommy follows the command with a long, slow slide of his body against Kevin's back, mouth panting wetly against the back of Kevin's neck. Tommy always acts so angry about this—about _them_ —but at moments like this, he can't hide how much he needs it, too, every bit of him crying out: _I want, I want._

All these years…Kevin's had a long time to think about it. He knows Tommy loves him, that Tommy's always loved him. But Tommy knows that Kevin will do what he wants. Because Kevin always does what Tommy wants. And sometimes, with all the crazy shit that happens in their life, Tommy needs that. Needs to know he can count on something—someone. He needs to know he can count on Kevin. 

And he can count on Kevin. Kevin makes sure of that—takes pride in it. Which is probably why Kevin's still keeping this old promise: _nobody but me._

"Lube?" Tommy's fingers push between Kevin's skinny thighs, skimming up goose-pimpled skin to grab Kevin's sac, roll it in a way that makes Kevin shudder and push back into the solid wall of his brother's body. 

"Where—where you left it," Kevin manages, fumbling sideways with his right hand to jerk out the drawer. There's lube stashed all over the apartment because he never knows when Tommy might show up or how Tommy might want him. 

Tommy's teeth scrape over Kevin's skin as he groans and then he's reaching into the drawer, fingers getting mixed up with Kevin's, sliding together briefly and squeezing before Tommy gropes past for the tube.

The lube itself is a gimme, drugstore KY that's as anonymous as these fucks _(no one can know about)_. The wet sound of Tommy squirting some into his hand makes Kevin moan deep in his throat and try to spread his legs wider. His legs are still hung up in his pants, though, just like Tommy wants him and his sweaty fingers can't hang onto the Formica, scratching at the back splash as Tommy opens him up and smears a glob across Kevin's hole. Tommy doesn't push in, not with his finger. Kevin saw that on some porn he picked up off the internet once, even thought about asking Tommy a time or two, but he always ends up saying nothing. 

It's not that he thinks Tommy will stop coming. Not anymore and not after all the times Tommy's said, "This is the end, Kevin," only to come raging back a week, two weeks, later. But this thing with him and Tommy—it's not porn. It's not silk sheets and roses and all that Glade candle shit. It's raw and it's real and sometimes—sometimes—Kevin can carry that hard feel of Tommy inside him for a long time. Sometimes even long enough for the _next_ time. 

This is how it is, with Tommy. All or nothing, zero or sixty. Kevin grunts when Tommy lines up and drives in, trying to go up on tiptoe even though he's expecting it. Tommy drags Kevin back down, arm around his waist saying: _you ain't going nowhere_ and sweet Jesus and a whole choir of angels, it's too much. Too-empty to too-full and it's been a while on top of it? 

"Tommy." He says it just to say it, a way to let out some of this too-full feeling without whining like a girl. He's stretched so wide and it's like he can feel Tommy all the way up into his choked-up throat.

"T-tight," Tommy stutters, voice breaking like he's fifteen all over again. He hides his face between Kevin's sweating shoulder blades, panting hard down Kevin's spine. "Christ, Kevin."

"No one but you," Kevin reminds him, torn between spite and pride, choking it off in a gasp as Tommy pulls most of the way out and then slams back in again, banging Kevin's stomach and knees into the counter. Kevin's breath oofs out of him and then Tommy doesn't give him a chance to get it back, zero-to-sixty, pounding hard and fast, making Kevin take it as he snarls words into Kevin's skin. Bitten off _fucks_ and _goddamns_ , sometimes a whole sentence, strung together like a rosary: _needyoukevfuckin.need.this_.

Kevin had softened up a little when Tommy first fucked in, but it only takes a couple seconds of Tommy hitting that sweet spot to make up for it and then some, soft, blunt head pushing against the cabinets to Tommy's rhythm like it's searching for something it just can't find. Kevin wants to reach for it, but his hands are all that keep him from being rammed into the cabinets with every jab of Tommy's hips. Thighs shaking, head down, Kevin wonders if he can come like this, just on the rub of Tommy inside him. 

Tommy's hand drags through Kevin's hair and then grips, twisting his head on his neck so that Tommy can kiss him, a wet slop of mouth and tongue that's more urgent than good and good because it's so urgent. Kevin kisses back, frantic licking, his neck aching like it's fit to break and he doesn't care. Tommy's hand, sliding hot down Kevin's belly, clasping around his dick, makes Kevin jerk and moan, shivering like he's got a fever when Tommy wraps around him and starts to stroke. 

"Tommy. _Tommy._ " There are no reasons now, just Tommy's name spilling out of him. His eyes are closed but he can see Tommy just fine, a face he's seen and loved, sleeping and waking for his whole life. 

Tommy's mouth tears away from his to plaster itself against Kevin's ear and he mutters, "C'mon, Kevin, wanna feel you come all 'round me, come on…"

"Tommy." One last gasp and then he's obeying Tommy in this, same as he obeys Tommy with everything, falling apart, spurting hot and thick into Tommy's hand and clenching tight around Tommy inside him. The only thing keeping him upright is Tommy's hands on his hips and Tommy's weight pressing him into the counter.

Tommy's not even really fucking him now, just grinding himself deeper and deeper and deeper, until it feels like they aren't ever coming apart. The thought makes Kevin choke and laugh and wring out one last squirt and Tommy makes the soft, bitten off noise that means he's coming, shoved up tight right against Kevin's back.

Kevin lets his forehead fall against the Formica, the huff of his breath turning the textured plastic damp and hot. He doesn't expect the touch of Tommy's fingers along his outstretched arm, the back of his hand. He doesn't expect Tommy's hand to fold over his, fingers linking together and holding. Just…holding.

"Goddamn it, Kevin."

Kevin lifts his head a little. "Tommy, you crying?"

Tommy lets out a hurt sound that's only a little bit like a laugh. "No, I'm not crying." He lets go of Kevin's hand and pushes himself up, reaching between them to pull out. Kevin makes a low noise of his own, turning his face into his arm. He hates the feeling of ache, of emptiness, the hot, slow spill of Tommy's jizz out of him, leaving, the same way Tommy always leaves. 

Fuck. Kevin promised himself he wasn't going to do this. He shoves his face into the turn of his elbow, pressing hard until the bones creak against each other. He lets Tommy move away and then he ducks down—barely missing cracking his head open on the counter's edge—to grab his shorts and pants, jerking them back up. It gives him something to do with his hands and keeps him from having to look at Tommy. "It's pretty late," he says, holding the sides of his belt in his fingers and debating whether it's worth it to buckle it back up. "Kate's going to be waiting up."

Kevin manages to make it sound pretty normal and he finally lets the belt sag loose in the loops and reaches for his beer when Tommy grabs hold of his shoulder. 

"Kate's visiting her mother in Florida." The way Tommy says it is weird, rushed and chopped off, like he doesn't want to be saying the words at all. 

"Oh." Tommy's looking at him like he's expecting more from Kevin than that, so Kevin says, "So…you want that beer, then?"

Tommy laughs. Then he pushes on Kevin's shoulder to turn him and crowds back into his space. " _So._ Kate took Matt with her and I was thinking… I was thinking maybe I could stay a while."

"Oh," Kevin says blankly, not sure what Tommy's getting at. Then the other penny drops and Kevin gets it. _"Oh."_ He tilts his head and squints, uncertain. "Yeah?" Kevin would be lying if he said he didn't like the idea, but he doesn't know…

Kevin doesn't know what he doesn't know.

"Kevin." Tommy's thumb smudges over Kevin's cheek, his bottom lip. It's been a long time since Tommy's said his name like that, soft and gentle, like he might say _Jenny._ He leans in and kisses Kevin like that, too, like he used to ( _does?_ ) kiss Jenny, like Kevin is his girl. And Kevin, big dope that he is, just leans into it, eyes closed, breathing soft. 

"So can I stay?" Tommy leans back, grinning like a goof.

"Mi casa is…" Kevin had flunked Spanish in high school. Twice. "Always open." He tucks his hands in his pockets, rocking on his toes. "Or something."

Tommy's arm slides around Kevin's neck in a loose headlock, dragging him close. "Yeah, I got it, Kev. Now how 'bout that beer?"


End file.
